An Abridgement of Sorts

“One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood.”
- Lucius Annaeus Seneca 
 

He was an invalid. Not necessarily one weakened by illness or cursed with disability. It was much more complicated.

His wounds were deeper than mere physical ones.

She was eccentric. Someone who viewed the world through a persistently cheerful point of view, no matter how pessimistic the world was around her.

Although she nurses a few wounds of her own.

Their friendship began as a strange one.

It was not a friendship where jokes and pranks were the norm. Not a friendship based on one's similarities with the other person. It wasn't a friendship built on fairly steady ground.

Instead, their friendship was established on unpredictable trust and mutual uncertainty. Nonetheless, it eventually bloomed into a deep understanding of the other person.

There were times when he thought he didn't deserve her companionship. That when she would inevitably leave him, he would descend into a melancholy that threatened to swallow his heart whole.

And yet every time, he is reminded of her promise to stay by his side no matter what, and it gives him hope, albeit temporarily.

There were times when she thought he would get tired of her. That he would cast her away when the day was done and she had no more use to him. After all, she was just an insignificant girl he took in because of a favor he had made.

Yet in spite of that, she is moved by his kind acts towards her, and somehow, she feels secure.

Their friendship was an odd little thing. It was spent in silence, more often than not. They spent their time together in perpetual stillness, knowing the other person was there to keep them company. They didn't need to utter a word to understand each other. Words were unnecessary. Superfluous.

Words were for the weak.

He wasn't sure when these feelings of possessiveness towards his charge began to take root in his heart, but they were there. Silent. Dormant. And yet, when provoked, turns him into a beast.

She wasn't sure where these feelings of admiration towards her guardian began to appear, but they were there, and she embraced them. Of course, it was because he had raised her. He had raised a flower.

The odd friendship between a beast and a flower is, after all, a strange little thing.

[Morgan]

The hospital is such a dreary place.

I glance at a shivering young man two seats to my right filling the space with harsh coughs, back hunched as he struggles to light the cigarette dangling from his chapped lips. I didn't know smoking was allowed here, but I leave it be. Let the man have some sort of escape from the pain.

A hospital bed swarmed by five doctors whizzes by, the patient moaning in pain. Stains of red and black embellish the white sheets, a testimony to the pain and suffering of the woman lying underneath it. Looks of desperation adorn the doctors' faces, clearly showing the dire state of the woman in pain. I watch as they race towards the emergency room, racing to save the woman's life.

Hopefully, they do. But then again, why didn't they do the same for my dad? It makes me sick.

The pungent smell of antiseptic hangs in the air, although I ignore it. I'm so used to it already and, by the looks of those around me, they aren't bothered by it as well.

I push my headphones back over my ears and observe.

The people who walk by don't see me.

I sit here everyday. Invisible.

It's not such a bad thing, after all.

More time to talk to yourself, less people willing to annoy you. To myself, it's some sort of a blessing. After all, you do get used to it after a while.

When one is invisible, one loses the ability to reach out to people. And when one loses their ability to reach out to people, then what's the use of trying to regain it?

By then, they would've formed some sort of opinion of you. Label you a weirdo. An idiot. A ghost.

Seeing as it's hard to change people's opinions towards yourself, you tend to give up trying.

That's what happened to me.

I suppose I took it too lightly, being someone who forces herself to think of the few happier memories in her life to get through the more ugly ones.

"Morgan?"

Snapping out my thoughts, I slide my headphones off my ears, raise my head and glance at the nurse addressing me. Since she's one of the nurses attending to my dad, I've seen her dozens of times. I just never knew she'd actually speak to me.

She seats herself beside me and pats my shoulder, her eyes gazing into mine. They're so full of pity that I have to look away. I settle for her name tag. Rachelle. So that's her name.

Does this Rachelle know what I'm going through?

"Honey, I'm so sorry."

You don't have to be sorry for anything, I want to say. It's not your fault that my father's in pain. But I keep my mouth shut. She runs a hand through her auburn hair and takes a deep breath before she continues.

"You do know your father has slipped into a coma, don't you?"

A dull pang of sadness hits me. I nod, not knowing what to say.

I knew this would happen long before it ever did. My dad is the strongest person I know, but he is really only a human, after all.

I don't really blame him for joining the war and thus causing his body to grow weak. I don't blame him for staying in a refugee camp to help take care of the wounded and the sick refugees there but instead getting himself sick to the point of near-death. I don't blame mom for leaving me all alone while dad was struggling for his life. I don't blame anyone for this.

I can't.

The only person I can blame is myself.

"We don't know when he'll wake up. At the moment, all we can do is to make him comfortable, pray and hope for the best."

Once again, I feel a dreary sense of sorrow surge through me. At least he isn't suffering anymore.

"I'm afraid we'll have to do what your father would have wanted."

 Ah. I knew about this too. I nod, silently urging her to continue.

"We're sending you to your father's childhood friend. Your father himself appointed him as your guardian in case something would happen to him." The woman smiles weakly. "And I suppose that time has come." She took my hand, forcing me to look into her eyes. "Though, you can stay, if you'd like. I'll make a way-"

I shake my head, interrupting her. "No. I guess the time has indeed come. I'll be happy to go."

This makes her grimace. "But don't you want to be with your father?"

"Were you expecting me to hesitate over this?" I raise my eyebrows. "Well, I'm not. Well, I am, sort of. But then again, it's my father's wish. I want to go."

"You know, I'm giving you a chance to stay here with your father, and you're just throwing it away."

"Yes." I smile half-heartedly. "Now, and I don't mean to be insulting, but please leave me alone."

Her face transforms, her eyebrows furrowing and her eyes glinting with frustration. She stands and puts a manicured hand on her hip. "Look here, missy. I'm trying to do you a good favor and here you are telling me to get out of your face. Well, I don't really care about you anyway. Just doing what your daddy ordered."

Ah. So these are her true colors. And to think that she was trying so hard to look nice.

"I'm sorry." That's all I can say. She rolls her eyes and saunters towards her colleague.

The man smoking nearby turns towards me and raises an eyebrow, obviously intrigued by Rachelle's outburst. I shrug and shake my head. He doesn't need to know.

Before they walk away, the two nurses exchange a few words. I hear her comment about me.

"What a weird kid. Something's wrong with her head. So shameless."

It's a pity I didn't put my headphones on earlier.

I slip my headphones back over my ears, ignoring the urge to scream at them and tell them they're wrong.

They don't know anything about what I'm going through.

They just don't understand.

I'm not weird.

I'm not stupid.

I'm simply invisible.

It's just a matter of perception.

[Jonathan]

Sometimes, there are things in the past that you just can't run away from.

Oh, everyone has a past. It's just that mine is more painful, more horrific than others.

Mine happened three years ago.

And I'm still haunted by it.

"Nathan?"

I tear my gaze from the window, from that car parked in front of my estate, and fixate my stare on the man leaning against the door, a smirk firmly pasted on his face. His golden hair a sharp contrast to the darkened room, he runs a hand through them before pushing his thin-rimmed glasses back up his nose with a finger.

"Finn."

The most annoying thing about Finnegan Johnson is the fact that he knows all of the things that tend to tick me off.

Being overly optimistic and cheerful in my face is one of them.

"You look like a grandpa, sitting all alone there with that dark aura all around you!" He prances into the room and picks up the empty coffee mug from the table beside me. "Aw. You're out of coffee, too. Is that why you're so pissed right now?"

"Very funny." I shrug him off, my gaze returning to the car. "Go get me some coffee if you want me to cheer up."

"Nah. Too tiring." He puts the mug down and flings himself onto the sofa in the middle of the room. "I'll just stay here and annoy you!"

So, he just came today to annoy me. Bastard.

"Will you get out of my face?"

Finn sits up and grins. "No."

"Will you please get out of my face?" I sigh, my impatient fingers tapping the book in my lap. "Now."

He tugs at his necktie and shrugs, apparently unfazed. "You've always been apathetic. I'm not bothered by it at all."

"Hmph."

He stands and walks over to the window, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "You're so tense. Is it because the girl's coming today?"

"She's already here, if you'd like to know." I point towards the car in front of the estate. Finn follows my gaze. "I don't know why she's taking a long time to get out of that car, though."

"Hmm. Maybe she's scared?" The blonde man beside me rubs his chin. "Your mansion is a little creepy, after all."

"Don't blame this on me." I scoff, my eyes rolling in their sockets. "My grandparents left it to me, remember?"

"Oh yeah-" His jaw drops open as he nudges me to look back at the car.  "Look! It's opening!"

"Hmm." So she's finally getting out of the car, then.

The car door opens, and-

 -Out comes a man sharply dressed in a black suit.

"Okay, that wasn't what I was expecting." Finn raises an eyebrow.

"That's not the girl, you idiot-"

I freeze.

She slips out of the car after the man and ambles to his side. Her dainty hands slowly come up to her headphones and slide them off her ears and down to her neck. In her olive coat and jeans, she looks more like a young adult than a child.

She exchanges a few words with the man before he walks back towards the car. He waves at her, his mouth forming words I can't really hear. The girl smiles half-heartedly towards him, her lips not quite lifted in a real grin.

Her dark locks fluttering in the wind, she turns towards the mansion, her face tilting up to look into the windows.

Then, our gazes meet.

Gray-green eyes clash with my blue ones.

Even from here, I can see her stiffen, holding her book towards her chest like a shield.

Like she's disgusted with me.

The look on her face punches me in the gut. Down-turned lips, dull eyes, face drooping. The fact that it looks so familiar makes my blood run cold. I've seen that look on someone else's face before.

Someone I'd rather die than meet again.

She looks just like him, my mind screams.

My head pivots, breaking our staring match, my body recoiling in horror.

Was this his way of punishing me for what I've done? Entrusting his precious thirteen-year old daughter to a piece of garbage like me?

I suppose it's not really a punishment, but when you think about it, it's more of a curse.

"Aw, she's cute!" Finn waves excitedly with a grin on his face, presumably greeting the girl.

I roll my eyes as I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the unpleasant feeling in my gut. "Don't hit on little girls, Finn. You're disgusting."

"But I was just complementing her!"

"Yeah. Sure you were."

Finn turns towards me and smirks. "Being too overprotective now, aren't you?" I ignore that statement. "What's her name?"

"I've heard it's Morgan."

He nods and glances back out the window. "Pretty name. No doubt named after her mother."

I still can't get rid of the feeling.

"Nathan? Are you okay?" Finn cocks his head to the side, taking in my appearance. "You're white as a sheet. Should I get one of your maids?"

"No, I'm fine." I sigh. "I'm fine."

I'm really not.

"Well, come along and greet her, Nathan."

Finn is about to take a step out of the door when my mind finally understands what he just said.

"I'm not going."

"What?" He stops and looks over his shoulder towards me, his eyebrows furrowing. "Why not?"

"I'd rather not meet the girl." I take a deep breath. "Yet."

Maybe not ever.

"Why?"

"You wouldn't understand." You never will. "Just-" I run my fingers through my hair. "Just make her feel at home, okay? Please."

Finn stares at me with an odd look.

I know that he knows.

"Okay." He nods. "I'll be sure to tell your maids that."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Aren't you meeting her?"

"Sorry, I can't today." He glances at his watch. "I don't have time to. You know, I only checked up on you 'cause your sister's worried. You should call her and tell her you're okay."

"No." I shake my head. "She just wants to annoy me. You two are one of a kind, you know that?"

He grins. "Yeah, yeah. When my schedule frees up, I'll come here and annoy you again." Then his smile turns mischievous. "And I really want to meet the pretty girl."

Finn narrowly dodges the book I throw at him.

"Go kick yourself on the way out."

He smirks. "Sure thing. Be sure to greet your little charge, Nathan."

As he walks out of the door, I suppress the urge to vomit.

All I can hope for now is survival.

I don't want to stay under the same roof with her.

I don't want to kick her out of my house either.

She, who reminds me so much of the person I owe my life to.

And whose life is now at the edge of death due to my actions.

Selfish.

Ignorant.

I deserve to live with this pain.

A life of melancholy is more than enough for me.